


The Morning After

by kototyph



Series: Supernatural Prompt Fills [5]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Frat Boys in Love, Humor, Imperfect First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kototyph/pseuds/kototyph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(407):</p><p>Oh and I ate all of your Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Consider it part of your reparation payment for accidental anal insertion. I may continue to collect payments until I am no longer sore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

He's been hearing the low droning vibrations for a while now, but it takes a good long time to for his half-asleep brain to process the fact that yes, it is his phone, and yes, it is buzzing two inches from his face.

Jensen cracks an eye open and immediately regrets it as the cheery morning sun stabs his into retina like an icepick. "Grn," he protests, and regrets that too. His stomach hurts like someone's punching it, and Jesus, a skunk has crawled into his mouth and died. Who let skunks in the frat house?

He's facedown on a bed— his own bed, unusually enough— stripped to his boxers and one sock. The bedding appears to have gone AWOL in the night and his cheek is pressed into the bare mattress, a pillow under one foot and an arm dangling off the side. It tingles with pins and needles as he pulls it back, reaches for the offending phone that is once again buzzing like an angry bee.

**JARED (Unread: 3)**

**Oh and I ate all of your Cinnamon Toast Crunch.**

**JARED (Unread: 4)**

**Consider it part of your reparation payment for accidental anal insertion. I may continue to collect payments until I am no longer sore.**

Jensen stares at the text.

Stares, and his eyes start to widen.

"Ho… ly…"

He scrolls frantically upwards.

**JARED (Unread: 0)**

**Just can't deal with this right now. I'm taking off.**

**JARED (Unread: 1)**

**I can't even ride my bike!**

**JARED (Unread: 2)**

**Seriously, you— no, you know what? I'm not going to say anything.**

Jared. His best friend since grade school. His crush since high school. His frat brother since they started at AMU four years ago.

"No."

Jared. Last night. Party. Drunk. Very very drunk.

" _No._ No no—"

Jared. Eyes dark, cheeks flushed with booze and dancing, just so fucking gorgeous with his big stupid grin and floppy stupid hair, mouth kissed red and a moan sweet as honey bitten off between his teeth.

"Nononono—"

Jared. The great unrequited love of Jensen's life. Like, _The Notebook_ -level shit.

"NO."

Jared, and _accidental anal insertion._

He nearly tramples the few random pledges who make a habit of passing out on the upstairs carpeting after big nights, vaults down the stairs and skids into the common area. It's a sea of fallen men, those who fought to the bitter end the tyrants of sobriety and good judgment and now lie strewn around the fraternity like corpses on a battlefield. Normally the sight would fill him with the warm glow of accomplishment, but he's halfway to a full-on freakout and runs straight for the kitchen.

Surprisingly, Matt and Richard have regained consciousness and are mostly upright, sitting across from each other at the table in the breakfast nook. Matt has his face buried in his arms and Richard is glowering morosely down at his cereal, but that's still more animated than Jensen's ever seen them before noon.

"Hey, uh, morning. You guys seen Jay?"

Rich makes a tragic face. "Fuck Jared. He ate all the Cinnamon Toast Crunch."

Jensen's laugh edges towards hysterical. "Haha, yeah, that asshole. So, no idea where he went?"

Without lifting his head, Matt grumbles, "You'd know better than us, princess."

Jensen's blood runs cold. "What?"

"Dude. It was painful to watch."

"What did I do?" Jensen says with real horror in his voice.

It's a mistake. Rich's bloodshot eyes narrow, go beady and malicious. "Before or after you started dancing naked on tables?"

"Fuck you, I did not," Jensen returns automatically— but he really has no idea and what if he _did_ , God, what if he—

Rich is cackling like a witch at his stricken expression and Jensen glares, flips him the bird before starting back upstairs.

He has to find Jared.

He has to find Jared, but before that, he needs to find pants.

* * *

Jared doesn't respond to Jensen's texts, or calls when he finally sucks it up and makes them. He's not at the Student Union, or library. Nor is he meeting his thesis advisor, a graduate student in Classics.

" _No, haven't seen him,"_ Misha says apologetically, sounding far too clearheaded for someone Jensen distinctly remembers doing at least three highly gymnastic kegstands last night. " _We usually just meet on Friday mornings."_

"Yeah, I kinda guessed that," Jensen says, disappointed nonetheless.

" _Let me ask the cube-mates, though. Mark, Seb, either of you seen Jared?"_ Misha says to the room at large.

" _Oh, has someone lost their moose? How sad,"_ Mark answers, muffled but still perfectly audible.

" _No, sorry, haven't seen him and fervently hope that I don't,"_ Sebastian adds.

Jensen can hear the two doctorate students sniggering away in the background as Misha brings the phone back to his mouth with a blithe, " _Sorry, it doesn't look like he's been by."_

"Yeah, thanks anyway," Jensen sighs. "And, ah, Misha?"

" _Yes?"_

"Did I do anything… well, weird? At the party?"

The grad student makes a sympathetic noise. _"Can't remember?"_

"Not a frickin' thing."

" _In that case, you agreed to arrange a threesome between Jared, myself and that scary-hot prof who teaches business ethics."_

"Pellegrino? Dude, you've got the worst taste ever."

" _Is that acknowledgement?"_

Jensen hangs up on him.

* * *

"Danneel," he breaths out in a rush. "Thank God. Look, you were at the party last night, right?"

" _Jen, everybody and their brother was at Pi Kappa last night."_ She sounds desperately hungover, voice hoarse and no louder than a whisper.

"So, yes?"

A sigh. " _What's the matter, baby?"_

The crosswalk lights up and Jensen trots across the intersection, headed for Old Town. "Listen, I think… I think I may have done something stupid."

Danneel croaks out a laugh in his ear. " _Brace yourself, AMU! I don't even want to know what would finally register as stupid to you."_

Jensen cups his hand around the phone and lowers his voice. "Hypothetically, sex?"

" _Well."_ Her voice is dry as a desert. _"To most people, yes, sex while being blackout drunk_ is _a very stupid idea. That certainly hasn't stopped you before."_

"Hypothetically, sex with Jared."

The silence on the other end of the line lasts for so long he prompts, "Danni?"

" _Oh, you poor dumb bastard,"_ she says sadly.

* * *

"Oh wow, you must be really fucking desperate," Genevieve observes from across the library carrel. Half of the library's collection surrounds her in tall stacks of yellowing print.

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Please don't give me shit, I really need to talk to him."

She eyes him appraisingly. "I'll take a break in ten. Buy me fries."

After thirty minutes of orgasmic moaning and the slow savoring of each and every piece of golden salted fried potato, the bitch licks her fingers clean and says, "It's a Saturday. He's at work, dumbass."

* * *

"Well, he _was_ here, about ago," Jim says, taking off his ballcap to scratch his head. "But he kept dropping stuff and staring off into space. I told him to go home if he wasn't feeling good."

It's Jensen who isn't feeling well, heart dropping like a stone into the pit of his stomach. "Okay. Thanks, Mr. Beaver."

"No problem, kid."

* * *

In the end, he finds Jared more by accident than anything else.

The afternoon sun is stretching long black shadows out behind the campus buildings, late spring day gone still and hot in the fading light.

Jared's sitting in a skinny, empty courtyard that runs behind the ag building and Robert McKinley Hall. He's found a place braced against a pillar on a knee-high concrete retaining wall, long legs stretched out in front of him and a tiny espresso cup cradled in his big hands.

"Hey," Jensen says quietly.

Jared looks up at the sky, eyes following a flock of sparrows as they take off from a power line. "You want to know exactly what happened?"

He's thrown for a second, but then Jensen sees the phone lying next to him. Even if Misha managed to keep his gossipy little mouth to himself, Gen certainly hadn't bothered. "Yes, please," he says meekly.

Jared chews his bottom lip, then turns and pins Jensen in place with a look, too open and too exposed. Jensen has to fight to hold his gaze.

"First of all, if you ever get that drunk again I'm banning alcohol from the house. I don't what the hell kind of stuff Matt and Rich found, but the three of you were just—uncontrollable. I've never seen you make such complete asses of yourselves."

"Sorry," Jensen mumbles.

"Do not interrupt me," Jared snaps. "When y'all decided you were going to start your own fight club and goaded the pledges into knocking each other unconscious, I locked those two in the kitchen and carried you upstairs." Jared takes a slow, deliberate sip of his espresso. "Bridal style."

Jensen winces. No question _that_ is all over Facebook.

"And then, when I tried to put you in bed, you grabbed my face, mumbled something about _The Notebook_ and tried to suck my tonsils out." Jared's glare could peel paint. "It was like being mauled by sloppy-drunk golden retriever."

Everything that is manly pride in Jensen cringes. "Jay—"

"And after _that_ — you— well, we didn't get very far," and Jared sounds almost disgruntled. Maybe there is a God. "You rammed two fingers up my ass and I sucker-punched you."

Or maybe there is no God, only Satan, and he hates Jensen. Also, stomach ache explained. "Jay, I'm so—"

"It just wasn't exactly how I pictured our first time would go, when you finally manned up and asked me!" Jared says hotly.

"Me neither," Jensen mutters. "Wait. What?"

"Of course, now I'm wondering if dating you will be worth the lame sex," Jared drawls, looking out towards the street.

Jensen sputters wordlessly.

"I guess I'll just have to see," Jared says with annoyed huff, and then he turns around and kisses him.

Jensen's never been kissed so aggressively, like his partner had something to prove and was taking it out on his mouth. Jared doesn't pussy around with the soft, playful licks and nips that Jensen's always considered part and parcel of the make-out experience; his lips are demanding, his tongue rough and invasive, and he makes Jensen fight for every bit of ground between their mouths, and if this is a battle Jensen's loosing.

He fights harder when Jared grabs his hips and pulls him in, the change in angle and the searing heat of that body against his making him feel surrounded, cornered. Then hands slide down his sides, fingers splayed wide and digging suddenly into his ass, and Jensen just falls open, falls apart like it was a button he didn't know he had.

Does it make him sound naïve, that it honestly never occurred to him Jared might be the dominant partner in their relationship? Because it sure as hell is occurring to him now. His head rolls back and in response Jared pulls him even closer, forcing his chin up with a thumb smoothed over his jugular and under his jaw.

Now that Jared has full command, the kiss turns wet and slow and lazy, Jared's tongue curling long and languid along his, stroking ticklishly over the roof of his mouth and curiously over his full, swollen bottom lip. He bites it, soothes the sting with a soft suck, and bites it again until Jensen makes a sharp sound and shudders against him.

"Hey," Jensen whispers dazedly when they finally part. He knows the grin spreading across his face is huge and goofy, but fuck him if he cares. "Hey, Jared. I love you."

"I _know_ ," Jared says, low and waspish, but a smug smirk is tugging at his mouth as well. "I love you too, asshole."

Jensen laughs, and kisses and kisses and kisses him until the sun goes down.

**Author's Note:**

> For juice87's [Texts From Last Night Meme](http://juice817.livejournal.com/413218.htm).


End file.
